


time's a crooked bow

by wshxn



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Drama & Romance, Grief/Mourning, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9981332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshxn/pseuds/wshxn
Summary: sehun gives one last look at his surroundings, foreign and familiar—he is terrified and uncertain of what’s to come. yet, as baekhyun talks in soft murmurs to ease him, he feels oddly safe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _originally written for the[beefnbubbletea](http://beefnbubbletea.livejournal.com/) fic exchange._
> 
> this is perhaps one of my favorites i've written. also, this is to celebrate my love for exo and my otp because seeing them live a couple of days in a row gave me that overwhelming feeling of euphoria, and i'm still in disbelief of it all. ♡ 
> 
> here's to hoping that you would someday see them, too. ♡

  
the winter breeze slices through his skin as he runs down the snow-dusted streets of seoul, clipped korean voices muffled beneath scarves with every stranger he passes by.  
  
sehun breathes through his mouth, the cold seeping through his lungs in momentary heaves, exhaled as white clouds of air under the glow of the rising moon. his tears dry on his cheeks, dissipating in the november wind, and somewhere in all the snow, he sees his broken heart.

 

  
  
morning comes and presses warm onto his eyelids, soft light awakening him from his slumber. slowly, he cracks his eyes open, swollen from crying himself to sleep, and chokes back a sob as memories come flooding back in.  
  
luhan. jongin. couch. _fucking._  
  
he should've known—he should've noticed the way luhan's eyes would linger on jongin much longer than necessary, how jongin would wrap his fingers around luhan's wrist in ways that suggest he would not let him go. he should've known, but he'd been a fool.  
  
he screams his heartache out on his pillow, throwing punches on the mattress with sheets that still painfully smell like luhan, and he cries, wailing luhan's name, his own idiocy, jongin's disloyalty and betrayal as his best _and_ only friend.

 

  
  
yifan wakes up to the sixth ring of his phone, arm looming over kyungsoo to reach for the device. on the other end, he hears his son in tears, begging to be sent home for the semester. he sits up abruptly, and the action wakes kyungsoo up with surprise, worry creasing the curves of his brows as he sits up and hooks an arm on yifan's to hear their son sobbing through the static.  
  
_i’m coming home._

 

  
  
the first thing sehun does when the front door swings open to kyungsoo's furrowed brows and parted lips, is to throw his arms around his father and breathe the scent of home in. kyungsoo holds him steady, despite the height difference, gesturing with a hand for yifan to come over, and sehun is grateful for the absence of questions, delving into the warmth of his fathers as a hand runs soothingly down his back.  
  
he is guided to his room by an arm around his shoulders, tucked in his bed by a kiss on his forehead, and the stillness almost instantly puts him to sleep. his bags lay discarded on the floor, the door closing behind his parents with a soft click. yifan pulls kyungsoo in for an embrace and kisses the crown of his head reassuringly. ‘he’ll be alright.’  
  
kyungsoo nods and hopes, tight-lipped and eyes closed.  
  
‘that bastard.’  
  
sehun flinches at yifan’s words come morning, head bowed down and eyes swollen over half-eaten blueberry pancakes—his favorite, but tasting as bitter as resentment and a little something like pain. kyungsoo presses his lips into a thin line, and it is a gesture sehun knows that expresses anger and disappointment.  
  
‘that bastard,’ kyungsoo echoes, and it is the rare vulgarity of his father that makes sehun crack a smile through his tears, and he actually almost laughs if not for the growing lump in his throat. yifan gives him an encouraging pat on the back, and kyungsoo plants a kiss on his temple as he clears the table. ‘you’ll make it through, sehun-ah.’  
  
and despite the dull ache in his chest, sehun believes him.

 

  
  
for a week, sehun nurses a broken heart through pints of ice cream and jars of nutella. his parents would come home to him curled on the sofa, tv turned down to a low hum and coffee table littered with junk food and tissue. kyungsoo treats him with patience, opting to run his fingers through his son's hair to wake him and send him to bed.  
  
yifan threatens to break the perpetrators' noses—those "idiots" he’d once called his "sons". kyungsoo merely laughs with a hand on yifan's cheek, 'i'd have done the same,' and tip-toes to press a tentative kiss on yifan's cheeks.  
  
sehun teaches himself how to cook the following days, despite kyungsoo's post-it notes of _there is kimchi spaghetti in the fridge_ or _i baked sugar cookies for you, they're in the jar_ because what better way to keep himself busy than to learn something he is not completely familiar with?  
  
so he prints recipes with incomprehensible names in french and japanese, chopping vegetables and frying tuna to the songs of jason mraz and one direction (as if he doesn’t feel pathetic and emotional enough), and for a good month, his parents enjoyed international dishes they wouldn't even have thought of tasting.  
  
sehun makes sure to keep the recipes filed in alphabetical order in the recipe box, and the obsessive-compulsive tendencies somewhat scares yifan, but pleases kyungsoo, nonetheless. 'who are you and what have you done to my son?'  
  
the brunette just waves the rather offensive, though humorous, comment off with a shrug of his shoulders, bony and weak, yifan notices. 'maybe it's what broken hearts do.'  
  
from where he stands, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed and a contemplative stare, yifan watches his son's calculated movements, graceful fingers lost in a flurry of note cards and hummed show tunes. he wonders when his son had gotten so frail as his shoulder blades bleed through the fabric of his favorite sweater in jutted silhouettes. 'you haven't been eating well,' he points out, voice stern and laced with worry. 'you cook a feast, but barely raise your spoon.'  
  
sehun doesn't bat an eyelash, unmoving with his back to his father. 'maybe i'm not hungry.'  
  
yifan sighs, defeated. 'okay.'  
  
_okay._

 

  
  
it was the way luhan smiled that sehun fell in love with, mirth and youthfulness dancing in his eyes as light bounced off from them with such life and vibrance. it is the same smile he held on to, that kept him going and made him believe in the possibility of eternity.  
  
but it is the smile that broke him a thousand times over.  
  
he sees his fathers share a kiss or two in those dull moments when they think sehun isn’t looking, how their gazes hold a certain degree of promise and something so much more, rings clinking softly with every tug of their hands.  
  
for the 44th or 57th night—he's not sure, he's lost count—sehun manages to keep himself awake with thoughts of luhan and jongin. he swears he'll move on, thinking of the days, _weeks_ , the holidays that have gone by that brim with life, of the time that passes by on a whim, wasted and uneventful. he prays and prays that destiny or fate would favor him this time around.  
  
with tear-stained eyes and a long breath drawn, sehun falls into slumber, hopeful, yet still beautifully broken.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

❀

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
‘hey.’  
  
there is a poke on his cheek, a warm hand that shakes his shoulders lightly. sehun feels his head throbbing as sunlight appears behind his eyes in a pleasant shade of tangerine. there is an ache on his back, as if he’s been lying on something flat and solid—a bench—though distinctly remembering falling asleep in the comfort of his bed.  
  
‘hey,’ the voice speaks again, concern and a little something like familiarity etched between syllables. with effort, sehun cracks his eyes open, squinting at a blurred vision of a stranger and cascading snow—  
  
‘fuck!’  
  
‘ow!’  
  
he sits up abruptly, hitting his forehead against the stranger’s that they both keel over in pain. ‘i-i’m sorry, are you,’ sehun stammers in between groans, reaching over to peer at the growing red patch on the stranger’s forehead. the man is of small stature, delicate facial features scrunched in obvious pain. ‘are you alright?’  
  
‘y-yeah, i am,’ the latter responds, patting dolefully at the damage, but smiling nonetheless. the gesture takes sehun by surprise. ‘what?’  
  
something inside sehun stirs, and panic rises to his gut in unimaginable volume that he starts pacing recklessly to and fro. ‘where am i? i-i was home a few hours ago, i don’t remember falling asleep outside—where are my parents? they—’  
  
‘hey,’ the stranger pulls sehun aside by the wrist, comforting and strange that sehun almost leans into the touch. in the stranger’s eyes, sehun finds assurance. ‘you can come to my place—i won’t hurt you, okay? we just have to—we can talk there, it's freezing out here!'  
  
‘but my parents—i’m—i don’t know where—’  
  
‘i know,’ the stranger coos, pulling him towards the opposite direction hurriedly. ‘you can trust me. i’m baekhyun, by the way.'  
  
sehun gives one last look at his surroundings, foreign and familiar—he is terrified and uncertain of what’s to come. yet, as baekhyun talks in soft murmurs to ease him, he feels oddly safe.

 

  
  
the apartment is rather large for one man, a room on one side and another down the hall, close to the bathroom and a wall-sized closet. sehun is given an idea that maybe baekhyun lived with a companion, away for the morning.  
  
‘you can take the room at the far end,’ baekhyun gestures towards the door, and the hospitality intrigues sehun. ‘i’ve got extra sets of clothes, too.’  
  
the sun filters through the cracks of the curtains in ribbons of light that he helplessly observes from the couch, eyes roaming about minimalist furniture and spotless niches of space. he is awashed by calmness and a sense of loss, teeth barred by tight lips. for a moment, sehun forgets he is away from home, questions lingering at the tip of his tongue.  
  
it is only when baekhyun emerges from the kitchen, walking with careful steps holding mugs in both hands, that he begins to feel anxious again. the smell of hot cocoa momentarily distracts him, but his hands are left shaking, even as he holds something warm and inviting between frigid fingers.  
  
baekhyun seems to notice and asks carefully, 'what is your name?'  
  
'sehun.'  
  
baekhyun hums, and sehun takes the time to look around once more, eyes befalling on a small television set at the corner of the kitchen counter, 'seoul is to experience heavy snowfall in the next couple of days,' the reporter announces, 'residents are advised to stay indoors.'  
  
but it is not the warning that causes sehun to drop his mug, shards of porcelain and hot cocoa running on the wooden floor. baekhyun jumps from his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape in surprise. the date reads _november 27, 2014_ , sunday, and sehun is hit with nausea, breath catching on his throat as if his body disallows the very thought of breathing. 'baekhyun, why does it say 2014? it's not—it's supposed to be 2041! i-i don't understand, baekhyun, it's supposed to be 2041!'  
  
sehun shakes baekhyun from his reverie, panic and fear evident in his eyes. his feet feel numb on the broken glass, hands shaking and void of warmth. 'baekhyun, please, it's supposed to be 2041, why does it read 2014? it doesn't make sense, i'm—you're—'  
  
  
'l-let go of me!' baekhyun pushes himself free of sehun's grip, unsteady and anxious under the taller man's terrified gaze. 'i'm—'  
  
sehun's breaths become erratic, suffocating, falling to his knees as darkness consumes him.

 

  
  
there are voices, distant and incomprehensible from where he lies, the feeling of soft grass and muddy earth rough beneath his fingers as clouds hover above him in the vast expanse of blue. there is a melody at the tip of his tongue, a hint of a smile in the corners of his lips. but when he turns, the flower beds are replaced by white curtains and cream walls, the moonlight peering from the windows a poor mimicry of what he’d seen earlier as a sky blindingly lit by the sun.  
  
there is a generous crack on the door from where he hears murmurs of an evening variety show, his chest aching at the reality he finds himself in that home is not where he is.  
  
he steps out of the room warily, greeted by a whiff of something savory and appetizing. sehun’s stomach grumbles in response as he steps into the kitchen to find baekhyun humming through a steaming pot of stew. ‘baekhyun?’  
  
the smaller man turns to sehun and gives him a warm smile, apron wrinkled and pale blue. ‘hey.’  
  
‘i-i’m sorry about earlier, i just—’ sehun becomes unsteady under baekhyun’s gaze, soft and understanding. ‘i freaked out. i’m sorry.’  
  
‘don’t worry about it,’ baekhyun turns his attention back to his cooking, throwing in vegetables and spices to taste. he nods to himself in approval, lowering the heat to a simmer. ‘dinner’s almost ready!’  
  
‘uhmm. do you need help with anything?’  
  
‘set the table up?’  
  
sehun nods and proceeds to gather utensils with baekhyun’s guidance, _over there by the cupboard_ , and the domesticity reminds him of how things used to be with luhan. the pain makes him collapse on the nearest chair, dizziness stifling and strong. in a beat, baekhyun comes rushing to aid with a hand on his forehead. ‘are you alright?’  
  
‘i just,’ sehun breathes, slow and measured. ‘need a minute.’  
  
he is silent throughout dinner, even as baekhyun attempts to strike a conversation to stir the younger man away from his rueful state. _please make yourself at home._ but sehun keeps his words limited, claiming exhaustion and excusing himself before baekhyun’s questions linger on the reason behind the darkness in his eyes.

 

  
  
'you're not from here, either, are you?' it is more of a statement rather than a query, and baekhyun feels sehun's stare on his back, tension pressing heavy and sharp onto his skin the next morning.  
  
'no,' he breathes, shoulders sagging heavy with defeat and pent up frustration. 'no, i am not from here, sehun.'  
  
there is a lump in sehun's throat, numbness cutting through his bones menacingly like knives of cold in winter morn. 'where are you from?'  
  
baekhyun turns looking at anything but sehun's eyes as he stubs his toes on the floor guiltily and somewhat hesitant. '... 2041.'  
  
  
sehun visibly gulps, clutches on the edge of the table to keep him steady in fear and uncertainty. _what now?_  
  
'you don't have to be scared,' baekhyun reassures, knowing full well how it felt like to be completely clueless and out-of-place. 'i'm here. we have each other, and we'll strive to keep it that way. we’ll make it through.'  
  
baekhyun's eyes gleamed with hope and what seemed like optimism, and sehun is quick to assume that the positivity is what rewards the latter his boundless smiles and strength to endure.

 

  
  
the winter chill is harsh and unsettling on sehun’s skin, the cold slicing in sharp wisps of wind seeping through the small cracks on the window. the next few weeks had been unproductive and dull, and he finds himself caring less of his new environment, basking in the unfamiliarity as he nurses the misery with each passing day. baekhyun doesn’t question him, doesn’t linger on questions that may trigger more anguish than comfort, but he always makes sure the younger one ate well and on time.  
  
but time slipped through sehun’s fingers like sand, and it almost scares him, if not for the comfort of baekhyun’s company where he somehow finds calmness in the stories he shares. _the lady at the market threw a fit over a few rotten tomatoes. there was a little boy who learned how to ride a bike over at the park. the neighbors bought themselves a new dog and named him after a vegetable!_ yet there are questions that linger in the back of sehun’s head, _how do i go home? when will this end?_ but he keeps the worry and fear beneath the pangs of hurt resurfacing constantly every time sehun chooses to remember the heartbreak, the way luhan’s body curved perfectly against jongin’s. he cowers behind his folded arms like it could keep him from falling into more pieces, angular and sharp with bitterness, hatred, and regret.  
  
‘a man named kim jongdae took me in,’ baekhyun settles on the floor by sehun’s feet, breaking the taller man from his thoughts and overthinking one evening. the moon had risen, then, brilliant and menacing against the startling black of night, and sehun shifts from where he sits on the sofa, bringing his knees to his chest to listen. he doesn’t utter a word, and baekhyun takes it as his cue to carry on. ‘he found me passed out on the sidewalk across the market. just like you, i woke up lost. just like you, i had a million questions running through my mind that seemed to have no answer. what happened with you— _us_ —is no different from what happened with him, with another person before him.’ there is sadness in the tone of baekhyun’s voice, masked with a poor attempt in sounding merry. ‘we are brought here by our grief, our heartbreak, as a chance to find ourselves again. we are sent back the way we came, but on the day of our birth.’  
  
'hyung,' sehun takes a moment to ponder, to take in all the information that would have overwhelmed him, if not for the grief wrapped around his chest. ‘how long have you been here?’  
  
‘half a year,’ baekhyun sighs, head low and eyes downcast. ‘it’s taking me quite some time, no?’  
  
'i'm no different,' sehun says, almost inaudibly despite the aching silence, and he finds himself trusting baekhyun with a tale he longed to forget. 'i made my first friend when i was 6. jongin was a year older, but we never let that come in between our friendship. i was 18 and foolish when i fell in love. it was an unlikely encounter, really, to have even met luhan. he was beautiful, and i was next to ordinary, but love moved in mysterious ways. i was 21 when i thought i had everything—a best friend worth keeping, a lover who claimed to love me beyond my flaws, a life worth living and dying for.' with slow, exhausted motions, he sits on the floor beside baekhyun, ‘til their knees touched and the only distance between them a story to tell, no longer barred by hesitation and unease. ‘i caught them mid-fuck on the same day i bought them christmas presents. i intended to surprise them, hyung, but i guess it went the other way around.’  
  
baekhyun only hums in reply, and somehow, it is enough for sehun that no words were said. but he wants to know baekhyun’s story, if he’d also been caught in the intricate and complex web of love or infidelity, or simply to know where he disappears to during the day when sehun is pinned down to the bed by the memories and the pain. but the way the smaller man’s knuckles turn white around the hem of his shirt has sehun holding his questions back, only relying on the hope that baekhyun would someday open up to him.

 

  
  
it takes sehun a week more before he could pick himself up again, the burden of missing home and his parents heavy on his shoulders as he trudges to the kitchen where he doesn't find baekhyun by the stove like he usually does. 'baekhyun?'  
  
but his obsessive-compulsive behaviour pushes him to gather the necessary utensils to make himself breakfast, and perhaps he would take advantage of this chance to repay baekhyun for all he's done. _maybe he'd like blueberry pancakes?_  
  
'well, this is new.'  
  
sehun almost drops the pan mid-flip at the sound of the voice, groggy, but alert and startled. baekhyun is standing by the doorway in his pajamas, rubbing sleep off his eyes with clenched fists, and the sight makes sehun warm with endearment. 'g-good morning, hyung.'  
  
baekhyun chuckles softly and settles on the stool by the nook. 'i would never have thought you were the cooking type.'  
  
'i taught myself how to cook,' sehun flips another pancake, earning him a _whoa_ and _do it again_ from the smaller man, so he does. ‘what are you, _hyung_ , seven?’  
  
‘it’s not something i see often!’ baekhyun laughs again, loud and unabashedly this time. ‘and it’s been a while since i’ve had company.’  
  
so sehun flips another, smiling gently, and pretty soon, they were laughing like they hadn't in ages over stacks of blueberry pancakes and brewed coffee.  
  
'hey, sehun,' baekhyun says, gulping down the last of his breakfast. 'would you like to go out with me today?'  
  
sehun blinks, momentarily stunned because it's been a few weeks since he's been out of the apartment, and seeing what seoul had been like 27 years ago is somewhat inviting. 'i'll go get ready.'

 

  
  
seoul at 2014 is not much different, save for the lesser skyscrapers that come into view from where they were walking, or the food carts littered across the road with snacks more enticing than sehun has ever seen. that small fact comforts sehun, and he is awashed by excitement at the first glimpse of _odeng, deokbokki,_ and _jwipo._  
  
‘hyung,’ he tugs on baekhyun’s sleeve, and the smaller man follows his line of sight. ‘hyung, i want street food!’ and baekhyun happily obliges, buying him a stick or two from every cart they come across as he shows sehun around the city, showing him places that have come and gone. there are restaurants still standing on the same place, guests queuing outside the establishment that have been passed from a generation to another; there are buildings that have stayed, some replaced or renovated, and sehun sees them all, overwhelmed with nostalgia. he talks and talks and talks—of the many adventures he’d had, his eventful childhood, and growing up without feeling remorse over having two fathers instead of one.  
  
but what makes sehun stop in his tracks is not the absence of his favorite sorbet stall across the cinema, but rather, the boy, clad in a high school uniform, walking out of the café with a paper bag of bagels. ‘d-dad?’ his feet move automatically, baekhyun’s call for his name a mere background to the loud beat of his heart. he is running and running ‘til he is abruptly pushed to the sidewalk, away from a speeding truck and onto the hard concrete.  
  
‘what the fuck were you _thinking_?!’ he hears baekhyun scream, comforting the nausea away with a shake of his head as he struggles to stand. baekhyun winces through the pain on his shoulder, hand cradling his head, but checks on sehun for injuries. ‘are you alright? are you hurt?’  
  
‘i’m okay, i’m so sorry, i—’sehun apologizes profusely, helps baekhyun on his feet, but his skin just as paper white and cold. ‘i-i saw my father.’  
  
sehun begins to describe the said man, _short with round eyes and heart-shaped lips_ , and the description takes baekhyun aback. ’you mean do kyungsoo?’  
  
sehun’s talking comes to a halt, lower lip quivering slightly at the sound of his father’s name. ‘yes. he is my father. how do you know him?  
  
‘he sings at a bar i frequent. i don’t see the resemblance,’ baekhyun says, eyes wide and disbelieving as he pulls sehun by the elbow towards one of the stores. ‘are you—’  
  
‘adopted, yes,’ sehun cuts him off, still hoping to catch a glimpse of one of his fathers. ‘i just—i wanna see him. i miss him, and i wanna see him.’  
  
‘hmm,’ baekhyun taps his chin with a finger contemplatively. ‘that can be arranged.’  
  
sehun discovers that do kyungsoo lives a few blocks from where baekhyun settles, a building at the corner of the street where sehun remembers his father telling him of how he’d met yifan. _it was noon, and the sky was serenely orange,_ kyungsoo had said, _yifan was on the other side of the road carrying a paper bag of bagels with only the pedestrian light between us._  
  
sehun grows more nervous as they draw near, hand sweaty in baekhyun’s palm. but he holds on tight, anxious and hopeful. when the door swings open to reveal his father, sehun resists the urge to throw his arms over him, fighting the tears that threaten to spill, and opts for a quiet _hello_ and _it’s nice to meet you_ when baekhyun introduces them.  
  
the do kyungsoo of this time is a lot similar to the do kyungsoo sehun has grown up with, despite his more youthful nature. he maintains a studio apartment big enough for one, but too small and cramped for three, yet they are sincerely welcomed with cups of tea and a heart-shaped smile. sehun is silent throughout the conversation, but admires his father from where he sits quietly and torn.  
  
baekhyun is talking animatedly with bold gestures and witty jokes, but cuts the conversation short at sehun’s apparent discomfort. ‘thank you for the time, kyungsoo,’ baekhyun stands up to bow, and sehun does the same, tongue-tied still, only mustering a barely inaudible ‘thank you’ at kyungsoo’s direction.  
  
‘it’s always a delight to have you here, hyung,’ kyungsoo responds, walking them to the door. ‘you should come by more often. i’d love to hear sehun- _hyung_ talk, as well.’  
  
sehun bows another time, and hastily slips through the door without looking back. if kyungsoo had followed them, then, he would see the brokenness in sehun’s eyes.  
  
he doesn’t speak until they’ve come to rest at a dessert parlour across kyungsoo’s apartment, doesn’t utter a word even if baekhyun buys him the most delectable _patbingsoo_ on the menu. he doesn't even question how baekhyun has come to know kyungsoo, or if he's met yifan, as well. he doesn’t make a sound at baekhyun’s attempt at making him laugh, doesn’t look at his eyes or even comment on the bitterness of the green tea ice cream atop his bowl.  
  
but a gasp escapes his lips when he sees kyungsoo by the pedestrian light, bundled up in that familiar plaid scarf and gazing adoringly at a man across the road with a paper bag of bagels.

 

  
  
sorrow grips onto sehun's soul like a plague, even as the sun begins to set heavenly across the horizon from where they sit on a park bench at the top of a hill, casting a warm orange glow on every surface. he misses his home, his fathers’ embrace, kyungsoo’s sugar cookies and yifan’s furrowed brows; he misses the comfort of his bed and the way luhan’s arms would snake around his waist when they nap through the afternoon, waking up to the moonrise. he misses jongin and his wit, his company, his sleepy slurs and college misadventures. he misses being happy, feeling alive and joyful with a smile bursting at the seams.  
  
it is only when baekhyun grazes a finger across his cheek that he notices he is crying, and the acknowledgement brings him to his knees. he wants to scream, make a sound, or wreak havoc, but his body is wracked by misery that he remains hunched over himself. a strong pair of arms wrap around him, and for a moment, sehun feels safe. there are whispers of comfort, _i’m here, i’m here_ , and a grip so firm that he feels secure and found.  
  
when they reach home, he hardly remembers being tucked into bed, tresses swept away from his face with careful fingers, and words of encouragement whispered softly in his ear, _you are much stronger than this, you’ll make it through,_ and he hangs on to baekhyun’s every word like a prayer, a pleading for hope.  
  
‘will he remember me when i wake up, hyung?’ he whispers hoarsely, voice laced with exhaustion and grief as he grips his hyung’s wrist with desperation.  
  
‘he won’t,’ baekhyun sits beside him on the bed, kneading sehun’s fingers in an attempt to lull him to sleep. ‘but you won’t, either.’  
  
sehun feels his eyelids grow heavy with every tug, remembering the way his father’s apartment had smelled just as familiar as home, and he feels comforted. but he also remembers seeing baekhyun’s eyes, downcast and unlit, before his own falls to a close.  
  
_you won’t remember any of this._

 

  
  
they make strolling through the streets of seoul a daily routine, even on the darkest of evenings where only lights bring life and a crowd so thin sehun could walk through the ill-lit paths with so much ease and clarity. sehun talks more, opens up more about his fathers, stories of how yifan _has eyebrows that could lead an army_ or how kyungsoo _stands just below my nose but grows five heads taller when angered._ he misses them, baekhyun knows, and tells sehun he’d lost his parents in a skiing accident when he was two, and was raised by his grandparents since. somehow, the conversation dies there.  
  
skyscrapers light the horizon, the moon magnifying the night sky with unblinking stars and cheap christmas decorations. the nightlife is limited to only a few pubs, most of the stores closed and empty from the holiday rush, but it is in the quietness that sehun finds momentary solace. baekhyun takes him to a bar a few streets away from their apartment, but one without the cacophony of house music, heavy beats, and bustling crowds. the lights are dim and mellow, conversations hushed and secretive over glasses of scotch or whiskey.  
  
‘we’re not here to get wasted,’ baekhyun says before sehun could even ask. ‘i want to show you something.’  
  
sehun sits on a stool a few feet away from the stage where a mic and a similar stool stand rather awkwardly before baekhyun takes over with a thumbs-up from someone behind the bar. when the music plays, slow and dulcet, and baekhyun sings the first few lines, sehun is captivated by the timbre of his voice, every lyric a song of longing and despair. sehun feels the heartbreak behind the melody, the yearning baekhyun emits with every word he belts out with passion.  
  
by the time the song ends and the audience claps softly, sehun has tears in his eyes, but so does baekhyun. he collects the smaller man in his arms, _you were great_ , and embraces him with finality and assurance as the smaller man sobs through his heartache. _let’s get out of here._

 

  
  
park chanyeol was a music major at the seoul national university, and while he strummed his guitar with perfectly lined notes, baekhyun sang to the melody of his songs. they were roommates, the best of friends since chanyeol had dropped a stack of books on baekhyun’s head back in kindergarten. ‘he’s very much like a child, always smiling, laughing at the smallest things,’ baekhyun chokes, head nestled on sehun’s chest as they let the evening pass them by. ‘falling in love was so very easy, but watching him with someone else was tormenting.’  
  
‘it shouldn’t have to hurt. i should be happy for him, sehun, but it’s unfair. i was the one who saw him through his years, the one who held his hand when his parents divorced, when he’d lost his ferret. i was there all along.’  
  
sehun is rendered speechless, running his fingers through baekhyun’s hair like yifan would when he couldn’t sleep, when he'd cried throughout the night over his failures and shortcomings. ‘it’s not your fault, hyung.’  
  
he only hopes it’d bring baekhyun comfort as his hyung grows heavy under his touch, soft snores lulling him to sleep, wishing that tomorrow would shed light to them—two souls broken, yet hopeful that one day, they’ll find happiness again.  
  
but sometimes, sehun wakes up to screaming from outside his room, bolting for the door and into baekhyun’s with panic and a racing heart. ‘baekhyun,’ he shakes him awake, running a thumb across his cheek in an attempt to wake him from his nightmare. ‘baekhyun, shh, _i’m here_ , i’m right here,’ and baekhyun’s screams would die down to soft whimpers, the scowl slowly melting away into peaceful slumber. sehun would hold him close, protective and secure until dawn, until baekhyun wakes up in his arms.  
  
neither of them know when it started, when seeking comfort had become building forts with pillows and blankets, when finding happiness had been arguing over what to cook for supper or what brand of shampoo to buy at the supermarket, or falling asleep to marvel movies or cheesy sitcoms past midnight and waking up with cricks in their necks. time refused to be chased, counting down weeks and months where lips were a breath away from each other in those rare moments when one decides to pull in, while the other pushes away.  
  
but there is something promising about the way baekhyun’s smile would reach his eyes, or the way sehun would run a hand through baekhyun’s hair while they sit through reruns of “friends” or “supernatural”; there is something wonderful about finding someone to share the pain with, or the small inkling of joy after the heartache. sehun doesn’t make an effort to meet with his fathers anymore, knowing very well what the future holds for the both of them. he cries less, thinks of jongin and luhan less, forgiveness at the tip of his tongue, at the back of his head. he knows he’s not completely healed yet, but he knows that the hope he yearns for is not so far out of reach with the way baekhyun holds his hand tight, never letting him go.  
  
it dawns to him when he listens to baekhyun hum from the stove while he chops vegetables, when he notices the songs have become upbeat and cheerful. it is there when baekhyun blinks sleepily through the fifth movie, when he untangles himself from the sheets from his nightmare, or when he scowls at sehun's lack of obedience. it is evident with every graze of a finger along the lines of his palm, the curl of his lips with every word held back.  
  
sehun thought it had been the mere feeling of longing or the need to fill the void of a missing piece, but baekhyun had become so much more than a companion. the feeling is all too familiar, and it pulls sehun in like waking up and diving into whitewater rapids and having no desire to hang on to the side.

 

  
  
‘i'm afraid to be loved by you,' baekhyun wants to take a step back, _guard your heart, byun baekhyun,_ because here he is again, delving into a love unknown and indeterminable. he had been startled by the confession, bolted from the blue as he tiptoed to put the groceries on the cupboard. he wants to push sehun away, regret and foolishness almost swallowing him whole because none of this could have happened if baekhyun had been careful, if he hadn’t gotten himself involved.  
  
but there is certainty in sehun’s eyes, in the way his voice pierced through his soul that makes him consider and stay right where he is like he belongs there, spellbound and enraptured. ‘you are broken, sehun. who am i next to luhan?’  
  
sehun is caught by baekhyun’s hesitance whose fear and sadness curl his lips down, but that only makes sehun more confident and sure of him. he wanted baekhyun to trust him, to make him feel like the world is beneath their feet. he wanted everything for and with baekhyun. there was a reason why, on the very first day, sehun had not fled to his house, even if the possibility of his fathers living there 27 years in the past was next to none, because baekhyun had anchored him to safety from day one. all those months spent grieving and hurting, replaced with baekhyun’s immeasurable patience, optimism, and love.  
  
‘it’s you, if you would allow it,’ in baekhyun’s eyes, sehun no longer sees a shadow of impending grief and suffering, but sees more of himself that he thought he’d lost. it was the very same oh sehun who loved and lived and laughed through his more youthful days, the oh sehun who is made whole again by baekhyun’s light. ‘maybe it’s been you all along,’ in baekhyun’s eyes, he sees the world brighter and much more beautiful, sees a chance at forever and _after_. ‘and it will always be you, baekhyun, if you would just let me.’  
  
there are no possible words that baekhyun could have said, because right at that very moment, as he is held still and true by sehun’s gaze and unfeigned words, he is overcome by an unexplainable feeling of gladness and sorrow. they are both aware of what is to come, yet even as the thought weighs him down, baekhyun is pulled towards sehun despite his tears, steps slow and careful like the ebb and flow of the waves on a calm day at sea. he threads his fingers through sehun’s hair and pulls him down for a soft kiss through half-lidded eyes and a quick-beating heart, _i want this_ , prodding the taller man’s lips open to brand his name on the curves of his tongue.  
  
_i want you._

 

  
  
the clock ticks 11:49 on the eve of april 11th, ominous and ghostly. it is the first time sehun notices the absence of clocks in the apartment, save for the watch baekhyun constantly wears around his wrist.  
  
there is silence in the air, quietness heavy on sehun's skin, but there is also peace and calmness. there is baekhyun across him on the bed, expression barely readable under the glow of the moon, but his eyes sparkling of hope and uncertainty. there are inches between them, but they are close enough for sehun to hear him breathing—a lullaby against the apprehension and hesitancy over what is to come. there is an arm around baekhyun's waist, a hand on sehun's chest, a kiss lingering in between the longing and despair.  
  
'come find me when you wake,' baekhyun whispers against his lips, desperate and full of hope, and a promise of togetherness lifetimes away. there were tears and stars in his eyes, holding sehun's gaze for as long as he can keep him, tucked in his memory, in the spaces between his fingers. 'come find me, and i will fall in love with you all over again.'  
  
sehun has baekhyun's hand in his—a perfect fit, a hint of warmth, holding on to every word and plea of being remembered, and sehun hopes with all his heart that he will when he wakes, small intricate details of baekhyun etched in his memory, in the palm of his hand. he kisses baekhyun one last time, _i love you_ , 'til the clock ticks twelve, and then he falls into slumber—slowly, then all at once.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

❀

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
he is awakened by a heartbeat, piercing through his skull in a painful throb. there is warmth, hollowness in the pit of his stomach—a distant sting of pain in his chest. he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders lessen, but the burden not as heavy as the emptiness in his heart. he thinks of luhan, of jongin, and the pain becomes unexpectedly tolerable like the void had been filled with numbness and acceptance overnight. but sehun felt strangely incomplete, like something is missing—a gap in his memory, like he seemingly yearns for something that hadn't been there all along.  
  
he walks in on his parents conversing in hushed tones, kyungsoo's fingers clenched tightly around his mug, _i'm worried about him, yifan._  
  
and even with the absence of kyungsoo's voice, sehun can read his father's concern over the crease of his brows, the downward tug of his lips in distress. his presence makes his parents turn to him, hopeful as frowns upturned to tight-lipped smiles, and he thinks his parents are beautiful, outlined by the morning sun filtering gracefully through the windows. warmth blossoms in his chest, and a hint of genuine happiness makes him smile.  
  
he takes kyungsoo in his arms, 'i'm alright, i'm okay,' and holds his fathers against him as he cries for what he swears would be the last time.

 

  
  
he enrolls himself extra classes for the coming semester, lectures that spark his interest and courses that would cover for the ones he'd missed. he bumps into jongin once, bitterness gone as he pats him on the shoulder, and walks away with a heavy heart, acknowledging the loss of a best friend.  
  
but he meets park chanyeol at an ungodly hour of six in the morning, head bopping lightly to radiohead bleeding through his earphones. there are coffee stains on the table, the aroma of a hazelnut latté lingering in the air, and sehun is drawn to a conversation of music and philosophy with the other man. there is something familiar about the name, the very nature of park chanyeol, like he's heard about him more than once. sehun brushes the thought away, figures that perhaps they've come across each other in some classes. in just a few weeks' time, sehun finds himself a soulmate, as chanyeol likes to put it, because _i've never had a friend quite as unique as you. we can be weird together!_  
  
'oh, except baekhyun, i suppose,' he chimes, mouth rimmed with ice cream just as the winter chill begins to fade, leaves a vibrant orange under the bright rays of the sun. the name makes sehun stop in his tracks, the faint howl of the wind a whisper against his ears. there is an odd feeling of familiarity tugging in his chest, warmth unexplainably coloring his cheeks scarlet. 'he's my roommate,' chanyeol looks at him quizzically, eyebrows knitted in curiosity. 'd'you know him?'  
  
sehun remains rooted on the ground, immobile and uncertain, because _baekhyun_ sounded like a name he's heard of, he's spoken of, but not knowing when and where. 'n-no, i don't, i've never met him.'  
  
'well, you should!' chanyeol approaches him with glee, excitement much like a child's, and pulls sehun eagerly towards the dorms. 'you'll love him, i swear, he's got a good sense of humor and all these crazy antics—'  
  
sehun unconsciously blocks chanyeol out, vaguely aware of his surroundings as his thoughts drown him to a contemplative state. he feels restless and somewhat nervous, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest, beating in his ears like a drum. he is awakened from his stupor by chanyeol whose voice echoed down the corridor, numbers descending with each passing door.  
  
they stop at 424, and sehun remains tongue-tied, nodding through chanyeol's chatter as he knocks fervently like an eager child on halloween. 'byun baek, yo, open up!'  
  
'just a minute!' there is a light shuffling of feet from the other side, soft thuds of books dropping on the floor as heavy steps come close to unlatch the lock. the door swings open to a man a head shorter than chanyeol, features soft and childlike, smile pleasant and warm.  
  
chanyeol stands in between them with a toothy grin. 'baek, this is sehun. sehun, this is my main bro, byun baekhyun!'  
  
'hello,' baekhyun reaches out for a handshake, fingers sliding across the palm of sehun's hand, and the contact has him parting his lips for air. a current runs through his veins, cheeks warming as the tips of his ears turn pink and his mind going haywire, and with the way baekhyun's grin widens to reveal perfectly lined teeth, sehun knows he felt it, too. 'it's nice too meet you, sehun.'  
  
there is a wicked grin that pulls on chanyeol's lips, a hint of recognition that makes him shake his head in utter amusement. he knows because the emptiness in baekhyun's eyes now brimmed with life, brown orbs vibrant and luminous, and he thinks that this—with the way sehun glows like the sun on the first day of spring—could be the start of something new, something _beautiful_ and worth keeping.


End file.
